


Tala's Call

by SpriteDyn4m1t3



Category: Moana (2016)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, I don't really focus on their relationship but if I decide to I'll change the relationship tag, Maui is only mentioned, Minor Original Character(s), Past Character Death, So I kinda made him, They don't ever mention Moana's Grandfather, Tui's friend that dies is mentioned, also this might turn into a multichapter???, eh, lmao yep, moana spoilers, multi it is, no shipping really, whatever happens happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpriteDyn4m1t3/pseuds/SpriteDyn4m1t3
Summary: It's obvious that Moana isn't the only one in her family to listen to the Ocean, but circumstances often lead to different understandings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first Moana fic! Sorry if it's a little rough, it wrote this very late at night! I hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave any feedback!

Tala Waialiki, age 10, swears the sea is calling her.

She stands at the beach, staring at the horizon with an intensity comparable to the rising sun.

With an ache in her heart, she wants to sail. She’s spent countless nights concocting intricate plans to steal a fisherman’s canoe and finally venture past the reef, but she still has to actually _learn_ how to sail. If she can’t do that, the ten year old inside her wants to stretch her arms out as far as they can go and grab the sky, and fling herself off into the ocean.

A small voice in her head says, “ _Onto the ocean, Tala,_ ” and yeah it’s probably right. She hasn’t learned to swim yet, so if she could actually fling herself, she’d want to be alive to see it.

As she walks up the beach and towards the village, she dreams of walking on water…

And feels a cool liquid splash her feet..?

She turns around to see who has splashed her, but all she can see is the quickly receding tide.

Thinking nothing of it, she turns back around and walks into the forest.

Later that night, she dreams of standing on the beach. The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and the ocean is flat and calm. Suddenly, the tide starts to rise, and within a matter of seconds the depth of the ocean is already reaching her knees. But, even as the water starts to reach her torso, she’s not scared, and she stays exactly where she stands with determination.

When the water reaches her shoulders, she doesn’t struggle.

She closes her eyes when the water reaches her chin, and when the water goes past her nose, she doesn’t panic. The only thought that goes through her mind as the ocean fully submerges her is how much she _wants_ this (and also how the current surrounding her feels like a hug.)

When she opens her eyes, she can _hear_ the ocean. The fish, the octopi, the coral, and the sharks, she can hear _all_ of it (and somehow it sounds more quiet than the village).

 

The clearest voice she can hear before she wakes up at home is that of a manta ray, swimming gracefully in the distance.

 

\------

 

She doesn’t realize it, but she’s the same age that her future granddaughter will be when she’s shown the ancient boats.

Tala Waialiki, age 14, witnesses her father disappear behind the waterfall with a mischievous gleam in his eye, and like any concerned daughter would, she quickly follows after him.

On the other side of the sheet of water, the only source of light is the moon’s reflection on the lagoon outside.

“Father!” she cries, and despite the frightening darkness, she moves forward.

“Father, where are you?” she echos, half shuffling half walking through the black.

She snickers to herself, imagining what she might look like right now, awkwardly navigating through the cave with her arms stuck out in front of her like a threatened animal.

It feels like ages have passed until her hand brushes against something wooden, and she’s so startled by the sudden contact she _shrieks._ When the echo fades, a torch ignites on its own, its light illuminating a very, _very_ large canoe.

A drum sits on top.

“Bang the drum,” her Father replies. There’s a small lift in his voice, like he’s trying to suppress a laugh.

She can’t help it, but she laughs too as she calls out for him again.

“Dad, please! Do we have to play this game now?”

“Bang the drum, Tala!” he repeats, “ _Then_ I’ll come out.”

On the outside Tala groans as she climbs to the deck because this canoe is absolutely  _gigantic_ , but on the inside she’s screaming with glee because _this canoe is absolutely_ ** _gigantic_ **.

(Unfortunately, its beauty and enormous size doesn’t help her when she slips on the dusty ladders and scrapes her knee.)

Finally at the top, the drum sits in the dim light of the torch, and she can’t help but feel as if it’s patiently waiting for her to play.

A voice pops into the back of her mind in a mocking (but almost… wishful?) tone. _“Go ahead, Tala,”_ she imagines the drum saying, _“I’m waiting_ . _”_

 _I’m ready_ , she thinks as she strides toward the instrument. _I’m ready_ , she thinks as she takes the ancient drumsticks and holds them steady in her hands.

“I’m ready,” she quietly says to herself as she brings the sticks high above her head.

As soon as the sticks make contact, she feels as if she's been brought back to reality.

“Waitaminute,” she says, “Dad, what the hell is this?” Her mother’s voice is in her head now, with scoldings of _staying home_ and _not exploring_ (or as she liked to put it, “Risking your life for something not worth your time). _Had she been tricked?_ she thinks, because it kinda feels like she has.

“Language, Tala!” her Father shouts, and after his echo fades, he breaks his stature and lets his laughter loose.

“Ohmy, g-, UGH,” she screams and starts to make her way to the ladder. She can’t believe this. She can’t believe him. Mother was right, she looks stupid and-

“Aue, Tala, wait!” her Father calls. Even though she can't see him, she can clearly tell he’s wiping a comedic tear away.

“Tala, Tala please,” he says, “One more time, _please._ I promise the cave will show you.”

She can tell that he can tell that she’s gotten too frustrated for him to joke around now.

 _Good,_ she thinks, because _one more embarrassing joke and I’m out of here! _

“ _Fine,_ ” she huffs. She takes the sticks again, and this time strikes the drum with all her emotions.

For a little bit, she worries that she had broken the drum, but that anxiety quickly fades when she hears an echo of three beats. She sighs in frustration.

“ _Dad_ , PLEASE,” she yells, and stomps her foot on the boards in anger. “I thought I told you to stop!”

“Wasn’t me, honey,” he responds, and this time, the curiosity in his voice tells her that he isn’t lying.

She stands firmly in front of the drum, trying to remember what the echo was. _It was a triplet, wasn’t it?_

She hesitates at first, but then when she repeats the noise, the rest of the torches that line the canoe ignite and illuminate the rest of the cave. A deep hum sounds from behind her, and when she turns around, she’s met with an extremely gigantic canoe sail.

She leaps in surprise when her father places his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s time you learned,” he says, “about _them._ ” He gestures to the canoes painted on the sail.

“About what?” she asks. “Who’s _them?_ ”

He chuckles.

“Our ancestors,” he simply replies.

\--

After the boats, the stories, and legends were revealed that one night, all Tala could think about was the ocean.

“ _We were voyagers_ ,” the words echoed over and over in her mind, with each repetition pumping adrenaline into her veins.

After the adrenaline settled, curiosity took its place.

When she asked why they stopped, she learned about Te Fiti, Te Ka, Maui, and their legends.

Stories about Maui were obviously talked about around the village. He was their demigod of the Wind and Sea, hero to all!

But, from her father’s stories, he sounded kinda like a jerk.

“He stole _what_?!” she exclaimed, eyes wide in surprise.

“Aue, Tala, please!” he put a finger to his lips, “You’ll wake the whole village!”

“But father,” she cried, “His actions, the consequences, the-”

“Tala,” he put his hand forward, and she stopped.

“Sit.”

She obeyed.

Her father moved his hand to the canoe they were sitting next to and gingerly brushed his hand across its side.

“If you… _Chose_ a canoe,” he started slowly, his fingers tracing the large vessel’s carvings, “Which one do you think it would be?”

She gasped quietly, her eyes widening in surprise, but she calmed herself once she remembered how well she knew her father, and no, he wouldn’t let her keep the canoe. Still, she wouldn’t let the disappointing thought keep her from having a little fun.

From where she sat, she carefully studied the canoes in her sight. She considered age, build, sails, and after a while, her eyes settled on a particular boat.

“ _That_ one.”

The canoe she had chosen was small, but from the looks of it, it seemed like in its prime the boat could get her to where she wanted to go.

The part that stuck out to her the most was the sail. The cloth was torn, and its edges looked like they were riddled with holes, but the Manta Ray painted on it still looked brand new.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of me feels like revealing the canoes was a tradition in Moana's family. It's a reason for why Tala knows so much, and why Tui knows about them too. Tala had shown him the boats, inspiring him and his friend to try out a canoe on their own (and failing). The reason why Moana doesn't know is because he's knows that showing her would just encourage her (like it did lmao) and he'd lose her too.
> 
> Info:  
> Her father's name is Rāme, which means sun in Maori.


End file.
